


Sharing is Caring

by TriaKane



Series: Designated Hitter [9]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Episode Related, Established Relationship, F/M, Joe Dawson (Jim Byrnes), Mary Sue, Mentions of Highlander: The Series characters, Story Fix, The Office Job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 17:26:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5793415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriaKane/pseuds/TriaKane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse of intimacy with a touch of reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharing is Caring

**Author's Note:**

> Set after The Office Job. It's been about 17 months after they met, he knows she’s immortal. 
> 
> I was watching this episode and an idea wormed its way in. I tried to fight it, but my Eliot-muse clenched his fists and insisted. He has a very distinctive way of insisting. :) 
> 
> Thanks Lyn for the beta. Much appreciated. XO

Zipping my suitcase shut, I heard the double chime of the alarm when the front door opened. Knowing it was Eliot, I headed downstairs. When he’d left the day before, he hadn’t known how long his latest job would take, so we had said our goodbyes then. I had been surprised when he’d called half an hour ago to let me know he was coming over, and was going to take me to the airport. I’d been even more surprised by the call prior to that; it had been from Alec Hardison.

“Hey,” I said, stepping behind Eliot and wrapping my arms around his waist, pulling him against me.

“Hey,” he said softly, picking up one of my hands and kissing it softly. “All packed?”

“Yeah,” I said, leaning my cheek against his shoulder. “You okay?”

He turned in my arms, his hands cupping my face, and kissed me softly.

“‘m good,” he said.

I almost believed him. 

It had been a rough couple of months—recovering from a nasty concussion, learning about my immortality, nearly losing Hardison, dealing with a barrage of emotional issues. Just last week, in an isolated cabin in Maine, I’d watched helplessly as Eliot struggled to deal with old memories that resurfaced after his last job. Letting himself be vulnerable and exposed with me, I realized the depth of his trust and love. This newfound closeness made me consider cancelling my trip, just to be here for him.

Even though I would miss Joe Dawson’s 60th birthday party in Paris, an investor’s meeting in London and house hunting in Cork, being away from Eliot right now didn’t feel right. However, I knew if I brought it up, he would insist I go, especially if he thought I was cancelling because of him. 

“Time’s your flight?” he asked, holding me tightly.

“Ten.”

I felt him pull his phone from his pocket, presumably to check the time.

“Wanna get some dinner?” he asked.

“Actually...” I said, pulling away from him. “I have something here to eat.”

As he knew the contents of my refrigerator better than I did, I could practically see the wheels turning as he thought about what I could have made.

Positioning myself so he couldn’t see what I was retrieving, I grabbed the airtight container and quickly turned to set it on the counter in front of him.

Frowning, he looked from it to me and back again.

“I got busy last night and forgot to eat dinner,” I said by way of an explanation. “And Hardison called.”

Eliot shook his head, and let out a little chuckle. “He ate it, didn’t he?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. He just said you didn’t get to eat yours.”

Of course I’d known Hardison was guilty of eating Eliot’s sandwich. I didn’t have to be telepathic to hear the guilt in his voice when he’d called. Plus, I knew how much Hardison (and the rest of the team) loved Eliot’s cooking.

Eliot swore under his breath, “Dammit, Hardison!” 

Grabbing a plate from the cabinet, I pulled open the container and set the specially crafted sandwich on the plate. When Eliot made his sandwich, he’d also made one for me.

I slid the plate across the counter, then turned and grabbed a beer from the fridge, twisting off the cap and setting it down for him.

“Split it with me?” he asked.

Smiling, I pushed myself up onto the counter beside him and took a sip of his beer. When I set the bottle down, Eliot lifted the sandwich to my lips and I took a bite.

“Mmm,” I said appreciatively.

He took a bite, lowering his eyelids as he chewed and savored.

“Swiss?” I asked.

“Dill Havarti.”

I nodded in appreciation. 

“What kind of spread is that?” I asked, tasting the cream cheese and garlic, and something I couldn’t identify.

“Made it myself,” he said, taking a pull from the beer bottle. “Cream cheese, garlic and green onion.”

“Nice.”

We quickly finished the sandwich and beer. I cleaned the kitchen while Eliot went upstairs and grabbed my suitcase. I had already shipped my sword case to the hotel I was staying at in Paris, and I only had one carry-on bag that was already downstairs on the couch.

Standing in the darkened living room, we held each other tight, and said our goodbyes.

“I’ll miss ya,” Eliot said softly against my neck.

“I’ll be back in two weeks,” I told him, both of us knowing I would miss him, too.

“No, you’ll be in South Carolina in two weeks,” he pouted, knowing my plans almost as well as I did.

I hugged him tighter.

“I’m only a phone call away.”

“I know.”

I pulled away and kissed him, long and slow. When I pulled back, I held his face with both hands, studied his eyes, and opened my mind to his. His thoughts were full of me—desire, longing, sadness, love. Two weeks apart was nothing, we’d gone longer, but the level of intimacy we’d found in the last couple of months made this parting bittersweet.

Without another word, Eliot released me and picked up my suitcase. I grabbed my carry-on and we stepped out onto the front steps, closing the door quietly behind us.

**Author's Note:**

> Jim Byrnes (plays Joe Dawson, Watcher) was born in 1948. Highlander Wiki gives his birth year as 1950. The story is set in 2011. The math doesn't work. It never will. Creative liberty? :)
> 
> _So, my sandwich is forgettable? Listen, I take thinly sliced turkey, all right? I pan-sear it with some sweet Maui onions, all right? Then I put a slice of dill havarti cheese and another slice of an heirloom tomato. All that goes on an everything bagel, and I make my own garlic-and-green-onion cream-cheese spread. That's forgettable? I don't think so._ ~~Eliot Spencer


End file.
